


wild like los angeles

by wayside



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayside/pseuds/wayside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's not like he doesn't know what harry wants anymore, he just -</p>
<p>can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wild like los angeles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deLILAh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deLILAh/gifts).



> completely totally 100% for lila my sunshine my only sunshine

They get to go out on the third week of their Europe tour. They’ve been cooped up for days, spending eight out of their twelve waking hours driving from stadium to stadium and aching for a let loose and the only release for their energy being their concerts.

But now, it’s different. They’re in the VIP section of a madly popular club, rubbing shoulders with the elite and dancing with the elitist. Drinks flow fast and laughter spills over the thumping bass that can be heard outside.

They get plenty of female attention, girls flocking to them in large hoards, but Harry always gets the most forward of the bunch, the ones that grab his belt hoops and pull their tits out and their skirts up. Where Zayn might have turned away and Niall giggled and Liam blushed, Harry just takes it, all slow smile and blinding teeth and sweaty skin.

Louis sits in the booth nursing a beer and watches a particularly bold girl take Harry’s hands and place them on her own hips. She flashes a wink behind her and pushes her ass into Harry’s front, and he just smiles and goes along with it.

He’s so attentive to everyone that talks to him, so focused on what they’re saying, and it amazes Louis--how he hasn’t grown weary of the constant attention and sharp eyes and predatory paparazzi.

Louis wonders if Harry will take her back to their hotel tonight, wonders what Harry’s into now, wonders if he likes both the female and male persuasion or if he just messes about with whatever catches his fancy.

Including Louis.

He watches as she hooks her fingers into Harry’s belt loops to bring him closer, tighter, her tan skin contrasting with Harry’s pale lines. He’s murmuring in her ear, her thick black lashes fluttering, and Louis is far too sober to watch this without a round or five or tequila in front of him.

He ducks into the bar, managing to avoid the grinding couples and lewd winks from bulky older men and orders a rum and coke.

He runs his fingers through his quiff and shakes his foot, eager to get drunk and just stop fucking _thinking_ , when he feels large hands settle on his hips. They pull him into their chest and he smells exotic, expensive cologne, mixed with dust and sweat.

“Hey,” stranger says, and Louis’ about to call security to have them get this douche off his back when he sees clear grey eyes, and a cut jawline to rival Zayn’s, and _shit_.

Louis backtracks thirty seconds, because this guy is fit as hell.

“Hey,” Louis replies, and offers him a smile. The stranger’s eyes drop to his mouth, and he winks.

“Care to dance?” His voice is deep and husky enough to rival Harry’s and Louis doesn’t hesitate before answering, “I’d love to.”

It’s been a while since anybody’s had the backbone to ask him, Louis thinks. Usually he’s stuck with El or brooding over a drink while keeping Zayn company.

But tonight, he’s going to focus on himself and what he wants. The guy leads them out into the center of the floor with his hands still on Louis’ hips, and hums into his ear.

Louis leans back and shouts, “What’s your name?”

“Derek,” he yells back, and Louis nods.

“’M Louis,” he says, and Derek smiles, “I know.”

Derek’s entire body covers Louis’ from the top of his scalp to the heels of his feet. His shoulders are broader than Harry’s and his abs harder, and--Louis really needs to _focus on himself_.

He pushes his arse into Derek’s crotch, and is spurred on when he hears a sharp intake of breath and a more insistent grind into his ass.

Louis closes his eyes and lets his hips rub in circles around Derek’s cock in his jeans, unmistakable in what he wants, and Derek’s hands are squeezing the front of his thighs, rubbing up and down and gripping the insides and he’s about to ask him to take him to the bathroom when he looks up and sees Harry staring at him from across the club, brows furrowed and body stilled.

From where he’s dancing, Louis can see that the girl Harry was with is now looking behind her in annoyance, probably because _why the fuck did he stop_ , but Harry isn’t paying her any mind, choosing to gawk harder at the guy pushing his dick in the space between Louis’ thighs.

Louis raises an eyebrow in Harry’s direction and just dances harder with Derek, who, bless him, hasn’t noticed anything going around them and is currently very focused what’s happening between their hips.

Louis could care less right now what Harry thinks, because he may finally get someone’s cock up his arse.

He turns around and pants into Derek’s neck and pushes up, in, _around_ his cock and Derek swears loudly, Louis smirking because _see, people still want me_.

Right before Louis leans in to offer, Louis sees Harry out of the corner of his eye pushing the girl away and slipping out the club entrance.

And, well, this complicates things.

If Harry’s pissy about something, Louis has to fix it quickly before it blows out of proportion. He remembers the blonde hair dye incident, when Louis slipped some of it in Harry’s apple shampoo for a prank. It wouldn’t wash out until Lou dyed it back its natural colour, and Harry wouldn’t talk to him for a week, choosing to spend his time in Niall’s room or with Tom and Lux, and after a couple of days, even Liam pulled Louis aside and kindly bullied him into apologizing.

That week of silence was _awful_ , with no one to make Louis cheese toasties whenever he wanted, and Harry spent loads more time chatting to Nick and Cara and the rest of his stupid posh hipster friends on the phone in London.

Louis mutters a quick “sorry” to Derek and scribbles his number on his arm--his real one, even, because he is genuinely sorry he can’t fuck him--and pulls away to find a cab.

He tosses back a couple of drinks to erase the ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach, and as he sits in the dark in the quiet ride to the hotel, he refuses to recognize the twisting feelings as jealously, something he’d promised himself not to feel anymore, not after he and Harry decided that they were nothing serious.

When he stumbles into their hotel room, Harry is in his pants, watching telly. He raises an eyebrow in Louis’ direction when he spots him.

“Back early, are you?” he says.

Louis carefully doesn’t make eye contact as he falls into his own bed.

He shrugs off his own shirt. “Had to make sure you weren’t going to do something drastic.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Remember Dallas?”

Harry retorts, “I just didn’t care to see you.”

“And why would you assume _I_ care?”

“I was just surprised.”

Louis snorts. “Surprised? How?”

“You’re not usually that slutty for it.” Harry’s voice is hard, and judging by the veins standing out in his forearms, he’s almost as tense as Louis.

“Pray tell, how was _I_ the one when _you_ were practically hosting your own orgy?”

“It’s not the same, because--”

“Because only you’re allowed to enjoy what you get, right?” Louis snaps. “You can have whatever you pick but when someone else is getting it better than you, _that’s_ not fucking okay, is it?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, and Louis huffs into his pillow.

Fucking bastard.

He’s mentally cursing Harry for being such a _selfish, stupid prick_ when Harry says quietly, “Not everything.”

His head still mashed in his pillow, he doesn’t hear feet padding towards his bed until the mattress dips down and Harry grabs his hips and hisses into his ear, “ _Not everything. You turned me down, remember?_ ”

Louis’ blood runs hot, and when Harry moves to get off his bed, Louis doesn’t think before he’s shoving Harry to his knees on the floor by the bed and growling, “because I wanted something more than quick fucks in the bathrooms.”

Harry asks, "Do you still want that?”

And Louis stops thinking.

Harry is breathing heavily. “Because I’ll still give it to you.”

Louis makes a split-second choice and reaches for the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck and yanks.

Harry’s head is jerked backwards, eyes flying open as Louis grips harder and pushes down on his shoulders. He drags his thumb over Harry’s parted lips, pulling his bottom lip out and letting saliva pool in the concave hollow under his tongue.

Harry’s breaths are quickening and his eyes are black, watching Louis, always watching.

“Why didn’t you go home with her, then?” Louis murmurs, “if that’s all you really wanted.”

Harry swallows and slides his tongue over Louis’ finger. His Adam’s apple is bobbing as he answers, “I didn’t.”

When Louis doesn’t remove his finger from his mouth, he shakily continues.

“I think,” his big hands are now sloping Louis’ thighs, “Maybe I wasn’t really looking where I wanted to be.” 

He hooks his long fingers in the front of Louis’ pants.

Louis sucks in a breath, pulls his stomach away from the heat of his hands. Harry’s mouth is still open, despite Louis’ fingers having left it already, and he tugs Louis forward by his belt loops, making him stumble forward and steady himself with a hand in Harry’s hair.

Harry is looking straight at where his dick is, and Louis tuts and tilts his head back again with the tip of his finger on the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What if I don’t want to,” Louis says, mentally cursing himself for how breathless he sounds. He’s rubbing his hand in circles on Harry’s scalp and Harry’s eyes are fluttering and he’s flushing and just looking _so turned on_ and Louis can’t resist.

Harry’s mouth is red and slack and he runs one of the hands he has on Louis’ leg up until he’s sliding it between his legs and feeling him out and _fuck_ , Louis doesn’t have the mentality to say no anymore.

He’s hardening in Harry’s hand, _knows_ Harry can feel it and bites his lip to keep from groaning out loud. When Harry looks up at him again, his eyes are blown and his mouth a mess.

“Feels like you want to now,” he says, voice hoarse, and closes his eyes and leans in to breathe hotly over Louis’ cock.

Louis shuts his eyes because he can’t let himself do this again, knows he’ll regret it in the morning, but when Harry softly bites his bulge and tongues through the denim, he can’t help the soft gasp that escapes his mouth and he tightens his grip on Harry’s hair.

Harry moans, and that’s all Louis needs to snap.

He pushes Harry’s face away and unzips his fly, taking himself in his hand and reveling in just how fucking _good_ it feels.

He shoves in Harry’s open mouth hard, Harry’s throat muscles squeezing around his dick and Harry whines around it, his mouth stuffed full. 

From where he’s looking down between their bodies, Harry’s dick is poking out from under his jogging bottoms, curving towards his stomach and red at the tip. Harry squirms a hand into his pants and takes himself in his hand, jerking himself off while moaning around Louis.

Louis groans, because Harry is getting off on Louis’ dick in his mouth, and this is too much.

And Louis, is. He’s possibly going to die. Spontaneously combust, probably, because this is so fucking hot.

Louis watches Harry’s arm muscles flex as he wanks himself off, thumb sliding around the head and flicking under the head and oh god oh _god_ , he’s not going to last any longer.

Louis pushes in farther and he can feel Harry’s gag reflex acting up and his tongue rubbing the vein running on the underside of his dick and Harry’s arm speeds up furiously.

“Don’t fucking come, Harry,” Louis hisses, “Hold it.”

Harry whines, but his hand slows down, squeezing the base and gasping.

His eyes red rimmed with tears and hair a disarray, he stills for further instruction from Louis, and that’s what really sends him over the edge, sends him spilling down Harry’s throat--the fact that Harry only does what he’s allowed to, what Louis tells him to. 

Breathing heavily, Louis tucks himself back into his pants. 

Harry is still looking up at him, that damned mouth bright red and hanging open.

“Say something,” Louis says.

“Louis,” says Harry, and he sounds so _wrecked_ , so croaky.

And Louis absolutely cannot let this go.

“Get up,” he says, and walks over to lie on his bed. He beckons Harry closer with a crook of his finger, and Harry stumbles over his pants, his dick tenting the front obscenely.

He curses and shoves his pants off so that he’s only in his briefs.

Makes a right picture, Louis thinks, him fully dressed and Harry stripped down to his boxers, still hard and waiting for instructions, a damp spot at the top where the head of his dick is pressed up against.

And _fuck_ , does that rile him up.

“On all fours,” Louis says, and reaches in his bag for some lube, almost not hearing Harry quietly protest, “But--then I can’t see you.”

Louis dumps his stuff on the pillow next to his head. Fucking hell, he is going to _die_. 

“Alright, fine.”

Harry’s hair fans out in a halo of curls on the bed as he shifts himself to get comfortable. His legs are wide open, displaying his clothed erection, and Louis catches himself staring.

He strips off his shirt, not missing the way Harry’s gaze lingers on his chest, and slithers up Harry’s body until his body brackets Harry’s and his mouth is at his ear and he’s breathing, “Show me, slut.”

Harry’s cheeks redden and he hurriedly tugs off his boxers to reveal his swollen cock.

Thick and long and curving upwards to his tummy. Louis’ mouth waters and he shuffles around and settles between Harry’s knees.

“Louis,” says Harry, breathless, “Louis, are you going to fuck me--”

“Not today, love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the underside of his dick.

Harry violently twitches, hips jerking up, and Louis follows him with his mouth, playing with the head and digging his tongue in the slit as precome tears out of it.

He slicks up his fingers and reaches down, down, lower than he’s been in a long time and circles Harry’s hole with the pad of his finger.

Harry whines, high and breathy, “ _Louis_ ,” and he shushes him.

He tucks one finger in, pushes and rubs around and squeezes another.

Harry gasps, “ _F-fuck_ ,” and Louis twists his wrist around and scissors. It’s so hot, and _tight_ , and Louis wants to finger him forever and watch him come over and over and _over_ again.

He moves his fingers faster, Harry’s legs opening wider, and adds a third.

Harry’s hips buck around until Louis slams a hand on his stomach, abs fluttering and contracting under his touch.

“That feel good?” Louis asks, curling his fingers up when he says “good”, and he catches Harry’s prostate on the way up. 

Little stifling moans fall from Harry’s bitten lips as molten pleasure shoots up his spine.

Louis picks up the pace, fingering him hard, jabbing at his prostate and cupping his swollen balls until Harry moans and fucks his hips down hard, once, twice, three times, spreading his long fingers wide over the bedsheets and coming onto his butterfly.

Louis breathes heavily, his hair falling in his eyes and his fingers aching. 

Then he wipes his fingers on the comforter and gets up.

He falls into his own bed and closes his eyes, rolling away from Harry so he won’t see his face as he stumbles naked into the bathroom.

Later, when Harry walks out, clean and smelling of apples, Louis pretends he doesn’t hear the soft “Louis?” whispered into the air.

Louis curses himself for letting himself slip. This shouldn’t have happened. This was just a fluke, a series of bad choices influenced by tension and alcohol and.

It won’t happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> i dnt know what im doing


End file.
